


The Bachelorette...But Gayer

by DroughtofApathy



Series: A Thousand Lifetimes [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bisexual Bachelorette, Broadway Singing (no really), F/F, Fantasy Suite, Jet-Skis, Laser Tag, Reality TV, Useless Lesbians, contestants falling in love with each other, dating show, dickish male characters getting booted, this is why we can't have lesbian bachelorette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 11:50:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DroughtofApathy/pseuds/DroughtofApathy
Summary: Never in her life had Genevieve Megat expected to end up on some sleazy dating show, competing for a woman like some prize at a county fair. And yet...the first bisexual bachelorette in the show's history? She couldn't miss that for the world.





	The Bachelorette...But Gayer

**Author's Note:**

> I did way too much research into how The Bachelorette works because I have never seen it and I never will. Side note: am I the only one disturbed about the idea of a woman sleeping in a house with a dozen men? Sure there are cameras everywhere, but like...anyway, this is my attempt at making the epitome of heteronormative culture queer-friendly.

The pinnacle of heteronormative culture easily could be considered those game dating shows. The bachelor or bachelorette ones with twenty-five people competing for one member of the opposite sex. But people loved that show to death, and producers thought it finally was time to break the heterosexual mold. Now, they weren’t ready to do a fully gay season. No, that was just asking for too much too fast. But a bisexual bachelorette on the other hand, now that could definitely bring ratings.

Rosalie Simmons, a thirty-two woman who ran her own graphic design and advertising company, did not ever believe she’d be a contestant on this absurd and vaguely misogynistic show. She liked to be thought of as a serious and aloof woman who did not need a man in her life. But the Bachelor and Bachelorette were her guilty pleasures. She loved to hate them, and somehow her hatred managed to get her a starring role.

And Rosalie identified as bisexual, which gave the show ideas. They sent out a hush hush hook, looking for three women to be on the show as contestants, no guarantees. And that’s how they managed to get Genevieve Megat.

Genevieve Megat didn’t do reality shows like The Bachelorette. She hated the very concept on principle, but she’d be damned if she didn’t become part of queer history by at least trying out for the first-ever lesbian contestant. To her immense surprise, and unease, she got chosen. And holy hell, the latest bachelorette was pretty.

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Genevieve muttered to herself. Any woman who thought she could find real and lasting love on a show like this certainly didn’t appeal to Genevieve. Then again, she _was_ pretty, and Genevieve couldn’t exactly act all high and mighty in her current position. And because Genevieve liked to win, she resolved to show this woman that meaningful relationships could happen, and drama wasn’t everything.

The stylists suggested she curl her long straight hair to give it some character rather than twist it up into a practical bun. This wasn’t, they reminded her, a show about practicality. She needed to be noticed. Genevieve declined civilly, pulling her hair back into a high ponytail with a gold cuff at the base. It would have to do because she doubted they’d be able to curl her stubborn Asian hair without crying. Besides, even a high pony saw her hair tumbling down past her pelvis. How was that for noticeable?

Her hair hadn’t been her main concern. Paying for the clothing the show expected her to wear was her main concern. As a freelance writer, Genevieve didn’t exactly have money to throw at thousand-dollar gowns, so she got creative. She only had two suitcases that needed to fit everything. Winter, summer, athletic, romantic. Any kind of mood she had to be prepared for. Half-Vietnamese, half-Malaysian, she had a few fancier dresses from her cultures, including her prom dress. And that little number, technically an ao dai meant for a wedding, was to be her limo dress. And if she was going to be representing all the Asian lesbians out there, she was going to do it right.

She got into the limo in the third to last position. Usually, she knew, producers ordered them approximately in order of how well they were expected to do. But not this time. This time, they’d pushed the three women to the back for an especially shocking reveal.

To Genevieve’s surprise, both other women were also non-white. The first, a light-skinned black woman, had gorgeous corkscrew curls and cleavage that had all the bachelors in the limo gawking. They’d all taken the bisexual twist rather well, signaling a changing time.

The black woman, named Daria, flirtatiously batted her eyelashes at Genevieve, earning a small smirk for her trouble.

“Ready to make reality show history, honey?” Daria asked, languidly stretched out as much as she could be given the small space. She wore green silks, and beautiful jewelry.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Genevieve answered. She resisted the urge to chew at her lip, remembering her meticulously applied lipstick.

The woman across from her looked ambiguously ethnic. Sherah, seeing Genevieve’s thoughtful look, explained she was half-Latina, so she often passed as white. So went the life of a mixed-race woman. She wore a violet dress that flattered her curvaceous hips, and had a bitter determination in her eyes.

“Family not thrilled with the whole queer thing?” Genevieve guessed. Sherah nodded, rolling her eyes with a small smile. Genevieve nodded in empathy. “Yeah, my Asian parents took some time to get used to it as well. They weren’t nearly as disappointed as when I mentioned they wouldn’t be getting grandchildren. But they’re not really around anymore so who’s real winner here?” Daria chuckled, sending a wink Sherah’s way. Sherah flushed slightly, touching up her lipstick.

They pulled up to the mansion, though Genevieve couldn’t see anything through the tinted windows. She waited patiently, grateful for more room as the limo slowly emptied out. There were a few men with gimmicks, which she was sure she’d hear all about later. She and the other two women talked amongst themselves. None of them had anything special planned. Genevieve supposed being women would be enough to shock the audience.

When her turn finally came, Genevieve had to take several deep breaths to stay calm. The Bachelorette had no idea she would be getting three women in addition to twenty-three men. There was no telling how she’d react to that. With reassuring looks from Daria and Sherah, Genevieve slid towards the door.

Slowly, first only one shoe, she stepped out. When at last she lifted her head, Genevieve stopped dead in her tracks, gasping softly. The Bachelorette, Rosalie, looked even more beautiful in person. She had red curls piled atop her head, and a gorgeous red dress that clung to her tall form beautifully.

“Hey,” Genevieve said, clearing her throat. She absently tossed her ponytail over her shoulder, as she stepped forward. “My name’s Genevieve. And you, my darling, are in for a bit of a treat.”

“You- you’re a contestant?” Rosalie asked, looking shocked. Genevieve nodded, smoothing her hand over her dress anxiously. But as Rosalie laughed in delight, smiling genuinely at her, she relaxed slightly. “That’s fantastic. Oh my god, they’re actually playing the Bisexual Bachelorette game. That’s amazing. Wow, it is so wonderful to meet you. I’m Rosalie. And your dress is just so beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you,” Genevieve said, glancing down at her dark blue ao dai. “It was my prom dress from fifteen years ago. Still fits so there’s that. Oh, and uh, lucky for you, I’m not the only lady vying for your heart. I think you’ll be quite pleased with them.”

Rosalie laughed, shaking Genevieve’s hand before the Asian woman walked into the mansion. The moment she crossed the door’s threshold, she exhaled in relief. It went well. At least she thought it went well.

A few minutes later, Daria waltzed in, looking immensely smug with herself. Genevieve smirked back, offering her elbow. Daria took it, and together they sauntered over to the bar. Soon, Sherah and Rosalie joined them all at the cocktail party.

Genevieve had just begun sipping at a daiquiri when Rosalie approached her. She turned, smiling politely, as she tried ignoring one of the other contestants who kept pestering her about what qualities she looked for in a date.

“Excuse me,” Genevieve said, turning her back. The man casually moved so he stood next to Rosalie and slightly between the two women.

“Genevieve, Marcus,” Rosalie said, smiling. Genevieve looked up at her, returning her smile. Both Rosalie and Marcus, as she learned his name was, were much taller than her, and having to strain to just hear the conversation tired her so. Rosalie, seeming to notice her discomfort, said something about her heels being so irritating, and would they mind if she sat.

Genevieve shot her a grateful look. Though, admittedly, as soon as Marcus started explaining what he did for a living, she stopped listening. Not that she didn’t care, but dear god was the man dull as dishwater.

“What about you, Ginny, was it?” Marcus asked. “What do you find attractive in a man?”

“Genevieve, actually,” Genevieve corrected politely. “And, I doubt I’m the proper person to ask about attractive qualities in men. I’m a lesbian, Marcus. I genuinely have no idea what’s hot about men.” Rosalie laughed, deep and musical. Genevieve looked down, fiddling with her hair. Then, she slipped off the stool to leave. “Well, I won’t keep you. There are twenty-three others out there looking for a moment with you. Have fun, darling.”

She smirked, walking away. Genevieve could feel Rosalie’s gaze following her. She’d left on her terms, shocking everyone. A few of the other contestants gawked at her brazenness. People didn’t play coy or hard to get on this show. They fought for attention and adulation. But Genevieve had her own little strategy to win.

Genevieve didn’t want, as much as she didn’t care, to appear as the typical lesbian man-hating recluse, so she did mingle a bit. Get to know the competition and all that, even if she did believe the so-called prize didn’t need to be called that at all.

One of the other men, whose name she refused to remember on principle, kept asking her to join him in the fantasy suite. Genevieve, who had never seen The Bachelorette before, had no idea about what he was talking about, and instead played up her confusion, blinking at him until he uncomfortably explained.

“See, it’s the bedroom, y’know?” the man said. “Where we go to get down towards the end. I’m just playing.”

“Yes, well, the only reason I’d be in your bed is _in_ your fantasies,” Genevieve said, glaring up at him. “And I highly doubt Rosalie would be pleased to hear you’re not fully committed to winning her affections, or whatever bullshit this is. Doesn’t reflect well on your chances. Now, back the hell off.”

Genevieve rolled her eyes, walking away before he said something that really angered her. She made a beeline towards Daria who was busy enjoying the attentions of one of the other men.

“You look thrilled about that conversation,” Daria said, throwing an arm around her shoulder. Genevieve shrugged her off with an affectionate eye roll. “Oh, hon. Get used to the pick-up lines. Men are simple creatures. They’d hit on a brick wall if someone only taped some of those googly eyes with the lashes and fake tits on it. C’mon tiny lady. Drink up!”

Genevieve didn’t, as Daria suggested, drink up. Something about being excessively tiny made her nervous around alcohol. It felt like hours as she surreptitiously watched the tall redhead weave her way in and out of flirty gentlemen and lovely ladies.

“I wondered where you’d gone off to,” Rosalie said, sneaking into Genevieve’s corner. “You don’t look like you’re having much fun.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I’m just- I’m a little anxious around crowds,” Genevieve said, playing with her sleeves.

“Tell me something about you that matters,” Rosalie said, moving closer. Genevieve cleared her throat, considering.

“Well, I’m a freelance writer,” Genevieve said. “It’s- well I’ve had plenty of ammunition lately. Unfortunately, so do they. Real ammunition. But I do what I can safely behind my nice screen. I try to do more, but I’m a bit dark for that.”

“Wait, Genevieve, oh,” Rosalie said, trying to remember something. “You wrote that expose on the child marriage ring. Wow. That was…really cool. Thanks for sharing. I should…go mingle. I’ll see you later, alright?” Rosalie stepped back, smirking infuriatingly. This time, she left. On her terms.

Genevieve groaned, trying to hide a smile. She was so very fucked.

Slowly, all the contestants gathered into the main sitting room. Rosalie was due to give out her first impression roses, and dear gods every single one of them wanted one. Even Genevieve. And when Rosalie sauntered over to the table, graceful as hell, grabbed two roses and beckoned Owen out onto the patio.

“So, ladies,” Sherah said. “Which of us is going to get the rose? Because you know the network’s got one of us on that list.”

“I think it’s you,” Daria said. “I may be charming, but you, my dear, are something else.” Sherah rolled her eyes, blushing. It was definitely not her.

“Genevieve,” Rosalie said, peaking her head in. “Can I talk to you?” Genevieve looked like a dear in headlights, but nodded, carefully keeping her skirts away from her feet lest she do something stupid and trip. They settled onto a wicker couch, trying not to focus too much on the cameras.

“So, the second you stepped out of the limo, I was just speechless. And it _wasn’t_ just because you’re a woman, and that’s revolutionary…in terms of reality shows at least. You just stunned me. And, then you talked about something that actually mattered. I’d love to see more of that. Will you accept this rose?”

“I- I mean, of course, thank you.” Genevieve knew she was probably smiling like a complete idiot. Oh, god. She was definitely going to embarrass herself on mainstream television because Rosalie was _really_ pretty, and seemed genuinely interesting.

The smile soon left her face after Genevieve found out just how much TV magic went into filming those rose ceremonies. It took _hours_. After every rose, the crew took fifteen minutes to reposition the cameras, and fix the lighting.

Genevieve stood there, her rose tucked in her hair, wondering just how damn long they’d have to stand there. They didn’t wrap up until after the sun came up. Rosalie looked exhausted, but somehow managed to pull it together once the cameras turned on.

“And that’s it, folks,” the director said. “Get some sleep. Remember, the cameras are all rolling 24/7. I’ve got your room assignments right here. Rosalie, first on the right. Third floor. Ladies…”

All three women had gotten a rose, so the three of them tiredly trooped upstairs. The first thing Sherah did was sequester one of the four bathrooms for the ladies; Rosalie included if she wanted cleanliness and hygiene which she so did. She was, Genevieve saw, really attractive when she verbally eviscerated a few of the guys who tried to ask if she wanted someone to loofah her back.

“I’m showering first,” Daria squealed, darting past Sherah who just rolled her eyes, scoffing. Genevieve chuckled, beginning to undo the complicated clasps and zippers on her ao dai. God, her feet felt like she’d been walking on hot coals for seven hours instead of just in six-inch stilettos. The things she did so she’d be at a height where she could hear other people’s conversations.

She slept until around noon. When she did get up, both Daria and Sherah were still fast asleep. And so, she learned, was the rest of the house. Which gave her the illusion of privacy she needed to recuperate. And she wanted homemade waffles.

“Jesus Christ, this kitchen is stocked as fuck,” Genevieve muttered to herself. Oh, she was going to have so much fun in this place. Smirking slightly, she wandered over to the stereo. They couldn’t have their own music in the house, but the show provided them with a pretty decent collection. And everyone loved old fifties hits.

“ _He rocks in the treetops all day long…_ ” Singing quietly to herself while cooking helped calm her nerves. Being snuck up on in the middle of plating her lovely waffle did not.

“Dear god, don’t do that,” she snapped, whirling around on one of the guys, Henry. Henry raised his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, chuckling slightly. “I just smelled something good cooking. Think I could get in on this?” Genevieve shrugged, passing him her plate as she reached for her mixing bowl to pour out another waffle. “Thanks, man! Uh, sorry. Ma’am?”

“Relax Henry, I’m not going to bite your head off,” Genevieve said. “My name’s just fine. So…”

“So…” Henry repeated, digging into his waffle. He groaned in enjoyment. “Damn, that’s one good waffle, girl. Uh, Genevieve. _Not_ that you need to make me waffles!”

“Henry seriously,” Genevieve said, rolling her eyes. “If you say something wrong you can bet your ass I’ll tell you. Don’t apologize before I get the opportunity. Your caution’s making me anxious. Just enjoy your damn waffle.” Genevieve saw Daria stumble in, yawning dramatically.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” she called. “Waffle?” Daria nodded, giving Genevieve a big thumbs-up. She slid onto a stool, laying half on the countertop. Genevieve nudged her off with a teasing glare.

Slowly but surely, the others trickled in. After a while, Genevieve ceded the kitchen to Collins. Collins had gone to culinary school, and knew his way around a chef’s knife.

“I feel like this new bisexual Bachelorette angle is so much better,” said one of the guys, Arnie. “Like, the atmosphere is more relaxed. It’s less like vultures circling a corpse. No offence, Rosalie. But it’s cool having a mix of genders. Like we’re getting some progress.”

It was four in the afternoon, and already they were all slowly drinking their way through the bar. Something about alcohol helping drama along.

“As thrilled as I would be with a lesbian Bachelorette,” Sherah said. “There is one overarching issue. Put twenty ladies who love ladies in a house and the Bachelorette is not going to be the only potential romantic partner.”

“Sing it sister,” Daria said, raising her glass. “But one day we’ll get there. Besides, I don’t think there’s too much to worry about right now. After all, Rosalie is simply charming.” She winked in Rosalie’s direction who flushed slightly, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“You’re just vying for a one on one date, aren’t you honey?” She asked. Daria just smirked, sauntering over to the bar. Half the heads in the room turned to follow her movements. Embarrassingly enough, Genevieve’s too. Well, Daria was hot. She wouldn’t deny that. Maybe out of the reality tv show her life had become, Genevieve might have gone for her. But Rosalie…there was just something about her that had Genevieve craving more.

Two days passed as the contestants and the star got to know each other. The men showed off their muscle power, or whatever other talent they had. But Collins was right. With women amongst them, the men flexed, yes. But it was less a douchy competition and more a friendly bit of banter. Safer too.

Genevieve never claimed to know anything about these shows, but with her limited knowledge, having eighteen men living in a house with one woman seemed terrifying. Not to mention those fantasy suite nights – which she did learn about. No cameras to keep you safe there.

The first batch of dates was coming up. And neither Genevieve nor Daria got a one-on-one. They both ended up on a group date. The concept of which confused Genevieve to no end.

“Lazer tag,” Genevieve said, only slightly disbelievingly. Rosalie shot her a grin as she strapped on her equipment with the skills of someone who knew her way around the game. “You play?”

“I’m going to whoop your asses,” Rosalie said, hefting her gun over her shoulder. Genevieve tried not to stare. Standing almost six feet tall, dressed in leather and holding a gun, Rosalie cut a damn good figure. “First one to get shot loses.”

Genevieve wasn’t going to let it be her, that was for sure. She kept low because it was easier to aim up than down, and she was good at being lower than everyone else. Daria, on the opposite team, caught her eye from across the field and sent her a wink. Genevieve shot her in response. Friendship meant nothing in competition.

She weaved in and out of the plastic mats, getting closer and closer to the enemy base. She heard her fellow contestants laughing and living it up. There was just something about grown adults in adolescent activities that brought out a childlike joy.

A loud shout caught her attention and she looked away from her target for just a second. Enough time to collide headlong into a tall redhead with a gun. They both grunted on impact and Genevieve, much smaller, tumbled to the ground.

“Hands up,” Rosalie ordered, pointing her gun down at the prone woman. Genevieve didn’t even consider it, pointing her gun right back. Rosalie just smirked, batting her gun aside with a simple movement. She leaned down, straddling Genevieve’s hips. Genevieve gasped, propping herself up on her forearms.

Rosalie tilted her head forward. Genevieve could hear her own heart pounding and she instinctively closed her eyes. Their lips brushed for just a moment before she felt the telltale buzz of her vest being shot. She yelped, her eyes flying open in shock.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Rosalie murmured, grinning. Genevieve huffed, smiling slightly. Rosalie gave her another quick peck before taking off again. She’d been completely and totally played. And damn well.

“She got me,” Genevieve said to a camera, laughing. Picking herself up, she trudged back to her side to relight her vest. She still planned to win this.

It turned out to be a narrow victory.

“Aw, don’t look so down,” Daria grinned. “Your team just didn’t have what it took to measure up to Rosalie and her fantastic guns. And I’m not talking about the lazers.”

“We didn’t get roses,” Genevieve said, picking at her nails. “I mean, I’m not worried…I don’t think. God, this is so ridiculous. We’ve known each other for a week and I’m already emotionally invested. _Fuck_ , that was a good kiss.”

“Think she’s a top or bottom?” Daria asked with a sly smirk. “Personally, I’d love to pull those pretty white girl curls of hers. Don’t look at me like that, Genevieve. You and I both know you would too. And I bet Sherah can’t think of anything else on her little date. God, I hope it goes well.” Genevieve chuckled, reclining on her lounge chair. So, did she.

And when Daria came back sporting a pretty red rose, they both beamed at her. Immediately, Daria pulled her down, demanding all the lovely little details.

“She’s…wow,” Sherah murmured. “Rosalie is brilliant. Call me shallow, but I didn’t think I’d find someone with depth like you all here, but we went to DC for the day. Museums, monuments. It was just fantastic having someone so enthusiastic about history. And she is fabulously smooth. Like, almost as good as you, Daria. Oh, I’d love to be a fly on the wall on one of your dates, honey. And Genevieve, she says you’re a great kisser.”

“We played lazer tag,” Genevieve said slightly sarcastically. “Very romantic. And technically, she kissed me. I just laid there like an idiot. Rosalie does have game, but I definitely could have won that round.” Daria scoffed, saying she most definitely could not have. Not with her being so fabulous.

“Gal time’s over,” Sherah murmured, nodding at the gaggle of men striding out of the living room, laughing and grinning like teenagers. The three women rolled their eyes in mock-exaggeration. But though they were the competition, they weren’t the enemy.

“Let’s give the boys a show, ladies,” Daria said, unknotting her sarong. “There’s a hot tub with my name on it, and I like being looked at. Coming?” Sherah sighed, standing up. Why not? She needed a good soak after the plane ride.

Genevieve shook her head, closing her eyes. A nice nap while grown adults splashed and played sounded just fine to her. Daria shrugged, dragging Sherah over to the pool and jumping right in. The boys cheered, and someone got a game of chicken going.

Then, she felt a strong pair of arms grab her. Yelping in surprise, she flailed gracelessly only to see Rosalie smiling down at her.

“Don’t you dare!” Genevieve warned, as Rosalie started over to the pool. “Rosalie, put me down this instant! No, no, no! Don’t-” she shrieked as Rosalie flung her into the pool with shocking ease. Genevieve knew she was light, but surely Rosalie should have exerted a bit more effort than that. She came up spluttering to loud cheers.

“Oh, darling,” she said, squinting up at a smug Rosalie. “I’m going to make you regret you even thought of that.” She sprung out of the pool, chasing Rosalie up the rolling green hill. Rosalie cackled, easily outpacing her. She tauntingly began jogging backwards as Genevieve struggled up the steep incline.

“There’s no way you can get- ah!” Rosalie stumbled back, falling with a soft thump. Immediately, Genevieve pounced smirking down at her as she panted heavily. Rosalie bit at her lip, her blue eyes wide. Having a woman, soaking wet and wearing just a small bikini, straddling her hips completely stunned her. Genevieve leaned down, her lips hovering just millimeters above Rosalie’s. Then, she pulled away.

“Told you I’d get you,” Genevieve murmured, backing away completely with a loud chuckle. She bounded back down the hill, leaving a stunned Rosalie behind. Genevieve tried not to think too much about how Rosalie looked, flushed and panting, her hair falling out of its bun. Genevieve did not want to get turned on while wading into a hot tub of men.

Two days passed before Genevieve had to pull out another fancy dress to be presented – or not – with a rose. She wore a simple black dress, not remotely remarkable or any nod to her heritage, and pulled her hair back into a tight bun. f

They positioned her on the end, and offered up an apple crate. She politely declined because stepping off of it, even with TV magic, would be just plain weird. Not to mention her precarious shoes.

Though they started at around eleven, the shoot didn’t end until nearly five in the morning. Genevieve got her rose somewhere in the middle. Four men went home, one particularly distraught, though for the life of her, Genevieve couldn’t understand it. Sure, she liked Rosalie. A lot, actually. But if she’d been sent home so early on, she wouldn’t have shed a tear over it.

“God, one day they’re going to have to find a more efficient way to film this,” Genevieve muttered, stumbling up the stairs and immediately claiming the bathroom. She was out less than ten minutes later, mindful of the other women’s exhaustion.

She got back to the bedroom to find Daria already in bed, a faint buzzing noise coming from underneath her blankets.

“Am I interrupting?” Genevieve asked, folding her arms over her chest. Daria gasped, her eyes shooting open. But she shook her head, lifting one finger to indicate she’d only be a moment. Genevieve sighed, stepping out into the hall until, a few minutes later, Daria called for her.

“Sorry about that,” Daria said, slightly breathless. “It’s just, I’m a very sexual being, and it’s been ten days. I needed that.” Genevieve waved her apology away. She’d stolen back to the bedroom herself during the day a few times to get her rocks off. So, she sure as hell wasn’t going to be judging Daria for it

“I sympathize, dear,” Genevieve said, slipping into her own bed. “Hell, if I wasn’t so damn exhausted, I’d be getting off too.” Daria cackled, tossing her vibrator onto the bedside table muttering that she’d wash it tomorrow. Already she was starting to drift off, her orgasm evidently knocking her out completely.

For the third week episode, Genevieve managed to score a one-on-one date. Nervously, she dressed according to the suggestions of the producers who refused to reveal the date’s activities. Clad in comfortable leggings, a simple cotton shirt, and sneakers, she stepped outside to meet Rosalie.

“I’ve never been to a professional dance class before,” Rosalie mused, when they arrived at their destination. Neither had Genevieve. Technically. She sighed heavily, cracking her neck and arms as she readied herself. Dancing was definitely not her forte.

Something Rosalie immediately picked up on. She laughed, readjusting Genevieve’s positioning as she led her around the dance floor.

“Here’s an idea,” Genevieve said, after nearly stumbling for the umpteenth time. “And bear with me here, but I think I’d do better leading. Feel like relinquishing control for a dance or two?”

“Sure,” Rosalie said in her deep melodious voice. “I’ll try anything once.” She placed her hand on Genevieve’s shoulder, and they were off, twirling around the dance studio. They didn’t automatically become flawless, but Genevieve was pleased at how much better they did.

“Where’d you learn how to waltz?” Genevieve asked, letting go of Rosalie’s hand so they could execute the twirl without their height difference messing things up.

“Summer program at Barnard with a Senator’s daughter,” Rosalie said. “You?” Genevieve smirked. She’d learned her freshmen year of college with her roommate.

“After we learned the waltz, we started on the tango,” she said winking. Rosalie blushed slightly, pulling Genevieve just the slightest bit closer.

After the dance class, Rosalie and Genevieve took a walk around town just getting to know each other. Rosalie spoke about her childhood growing up as an army brat and traveling all around the world.

“It was exciting at times,” Rosalie said, interlocking their fingers. “But I had to grow up pretty quickly. I saw some things that…stuck with me. You’ve, um, you know about the refugees in Europe, I assume. I wasn’t supposed to, but I snuck off to talk with some of the women. The things they said. The things they had to go through, and how they had to use their bodies. It was just horrible. I wanted to make a difference back then. Swore I’d do something worth _something_. Kinda failed that. Not brave like you.”

“Me? Please,” Genevieve scoffed, squeezing Rosalie’s hand. “I stay behind a laptop screen, writing about things, but hardly ever doing. I don’t travel out of my way to marches. I don’t make big speeches. I’m incendiary, I’m controversial. But I don’t ever claim to be brave. Not when I could be doing so much, but I don’t because it’s dangerous for a woman with my skin. On this show, even with Latina Sherah and black Daria, I’m the darkest. And that’s no excuse for not being a better revolutionary. So yeah, we could both be doing better. But we do what we can.”

Rosalie blushed, smiling. Then, she leaned down. And this time, neither woman pulled away too soon. Rosalie whimpered softly, finally straightening. Flushed, she ran a hand through her hair, struggling to regain her composure.

“I know our date isn’t over yet, but would you accept my rose?” Rosalie asked. Genevieve giggled slightly, pointing out that she didn’t have the rose with her yet. In response, Rosalie just pulled Genevieve towards a flower shop where she personally bought the most beautiful rose in the whole place.

Genevieve couldn’t help but swoon slightly, tucking the rose into her ponytail holder. She was falling hard and fast, and this was not going to end well at all. Safe this ‘week’ yes, but for how much longer?

The next day, Daria and Sherah came back – neither with roses – with stories about having gone to a carnival where they all competed in those fair games.

“I’m usually shit at that water gun game,” Daria said. “But there’s something about the prospect of beating grown men after they trash talk you that really works as a fantastic motivator.” Rosalie had come back with armloads of stuffed animals, and even a fish that Owen had won for her. They all voted on a name and came up with Susan B. Anchovy. Mason’s idea, and the man seemed far too proud of himself.

Genevieve somehow got goaded into playing a game of pool against Henry. Not that it was so unbelievable; she did have a competitive streak and would probably do many things just to get bragging rights. Pool, the infuriating game it was, did not go in her favor.

“I blame the sticks,” Genevieve said, after blindly shooting the cue ball once again. “Anything that’s taller than me, and too wide to grip properly is automatically at fault.” She wasn’t horrible, per se, and actually managed to sink several balls – all purely by luck she claimed. The secret to being coincidently good was to just slam the stick into the cue ball and hope it didn’t scratch. It drove Henry, a seasoned veteran at the game, completely insane that he didn’t wipe the floor completely with her.

After losing at the final stretch, Genevieve gave up her stick to Sherah who promptly annihilated the ‘seasoned veteran’ to cheers from the other contestants and Rosalie. And though her arm muscles weren’t nearly on par with Rosalie’s gorgeous guns, she looked damn good.

Evidently Daria thought so too, because Genevieve caught her practically drooling. Genevieve scoffed in amusement, elbowing her hard. Not that she blamed Daria. No, Sherah was definitely an attractive woman who she definitely could have gone for outside the show.

“Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies,” she said. Daria didn’t pay her any mind at all, taking a long drink from her beer. So Genevieve left her to it, glancing over at Rosalie who seemed just as enthralled with the two pool players.

She wandered over to the couch, eavesdropping on a conversation between Xavier and Julian.

“I’m telling you man, we are at a disadvantage,” Xavier said, nudging Julian good-naturedly. “Look at these women, dude. What idiot would pick one of us over them? You see how much closer she is with the girls.”

“Nah,” Julian said, shrugging. “That’s just girls being friendly. I mean, not that I think women can’t be in relationships. That’s _not_ what I’m saying. I’m just saying since they’re women they can relate. We’re all equally matched here. Sides, Rosalie came here looking for a man.”

“I guess,” Xavier said, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s cool and all that they’re getting women for this show, but I just feel like I can’t compete. Like, if I had three chicks going after me, I wouldn’t look twice at some dudebro. Y’know, if I was bi, I mean. Especially women who looked like _that_.”

Genevieve rolled her eyes heavily. She liked both men well enough, but honestly, they tried her nerves so much with their bro talks. But then, they were both in their mid-twenties. Still, Genevieve felt, just kids really. Especially compared to her in her thirties. Granted not very far into said thirties, but still.

“I feel you, bro,” Julian agreed, stretching out his arms. “Hey, you think, if I don’t manage to woo Rosalie, and neither does Daria, she’d be open to going out? Like, I know Genevieve isn’t game, and it’s still up in the air with Sherah, but Daria…”

“Trust me boys,” Genevieve said, plopping onto the arm of the couch. “I think our girl’s spoken for if Rosalie doesn’t fall for her.” She tilted her head over at Sherah who had started up a game with Rosalie after Henry quit in good-natured frustration. Both guys just looked at her in confusion. She just sighed, taking a drink of her water.

After almost two weeks of having alcohol pushed onto them, they’d all begun pacing themselves as best they could. Genevieve stopped drinking altogether save for one glass of wine every few days.

Trusting no one to throw her into the pool, Genevieve sequestered herself on an armchair, closing her eyes. She didn’t dare actually sleep, but it was nice to just listen to the raucous laughter, and friendly conversations. She knew it couldn’t last. So far, nothing particularly scandalous had happened, safe for the time Mason streaked through the house whooping and howling. He wore a jockstrap, thank god, but Genevieve still threatened to burn her eyes out.

The others had all been rolling on the floor laughing at his antics as he wildly leaped into the pool. But other than that, nothing drama related happened. Everyone seemed to genuinely like each other. Genevieve could only imagine what the show’s producers would cook up to pit them against each other.

Luckily though, they didn’t need to because after the next rose ceremony, and when Rosalie and Tristan went out on their date, apparently something happened because Rosalie came back alone with reddened eyes. She looked devastated, and when Collins tried to comfort her, she pushed him away, saying she just didn’t want to be touched right now.

One of the producers confided that Tristan had gotten way too handsy, and Rosalie sent him home. He didn’t take it well, and kind of went on a homophobic rant. Everyone else winced. The incident, got the show the drama they wanted, and a few of the guys immediately started trash talking, also saying none of that was cool.

Daria got seriously angry, going on an angry rant about consent, while Sherah seethed about what he said as she watched the footage.

“Hey, uh, Genevieve,” Arnie said, coming up to her. “I know it’s weird, me pushing you at her, but you need to go talk to Rosalie. She shouldn’t be alone right now, and it’s probably not a good idea to send any of us guys after her.” Genevieve nodded, wincing. She’d never been good at offering comfort, and had no idea what to say, but she went. Because Arnie was right. Rosalie needed someone.

She knocked on Rosalie’s bedroom door, getting a terse response back.

“It’s me,” she said quietly. “Look, Rosalie. I’m not trying anything. I just want to make sure you’re going to be okay. Also, I’m offering to track the bastard down and cut off his hands if you want.” She heard a soft chuckle in response, and the door clicked open.

“Thanks,” Rosalie said, wiping at her eyes. “It’s- I shouldn’t even be this angry. But I _liked_ Tristin. I thought he was a good guy, and then he drank too much and grabbed at my ass. I mean, it’s happened before, but I just felt…violated. And we got into an argument, then he said all that bullshit. I’ve heard it all from men worse than him, but he just always acted like such a tolerant person.”

She slumped onto her bed, taking her hair out of its messy bun. Genevieve tentatively sat next to her, keeping her distance. She told Rosalie that she was so sorry that had to happen to her, and she really didn’t know how to help.

“But, Arnie didn’t want you to be alone,” she said. “And we both knew it was a bad idea to send any of the guys after what happened. But we’re all on your side. None of us think what he said was okay at all. Shit like that won’t happen again. And if it does, I really will cut off body parts.”

Rosalie smiled, and this time it reached her eyes. She wiped at her face, patting Genevieve’s hand. She really appreciated that Genevieve had come, and that she said that. Even if violence definitely did not make a good solution. Flushing slightly, she leaned closer, touching Genevieve’s cheek. Genevieve’s breath hitched, but at the last second, she pulled away.

“We shouldn’t,” she murmured. “I really want to, but not after what happened. It just feels kind of skeevy, you see?”

“I think, um, I’m going to turn in early tonight,” Rosalie said, pulling back. Genevieve bit her lip. She knew she’d done the right thing, but it still felt shitty. “Thanks. For being responsible, and caring about me.”

“Of course,” Genevieve said, smiling as she turned to go. “I’ll always have complete respect for you.” She shut the light on her way out, smiling in spite of the day’s events.

The next morning, before the sun even rose, eight of them – Rosalie included – jetted off to Hawaii for the day. They left Owen, Mason, and Daria behind, and from the teasing wink Daria sent Genevieve and Sherah, they knew exactly what she’d be occupying her time with.

Dressed in their swimsuits, leis, and sunglasses, they walked down to a pier where eight jet skis, kayaks, and all manner of water vehicles waited for them.

“I’m not sure ‘water vehicle’ is the proper term,” Rosalie said to Henry who just grinned, jumping onto a paddleboard. “Anyway. So, ladies and gentlemen, I have a little competition for you all. See that buoy all the way over there? First to paddle around it and back gets to ride with me in a doubles kayak. And a kiss, of course. And yes, sabotage is allowed.”

“Now that’s my kind of contest,” Genevieve said, wishing Daria were with them. She did love a game where you were encouraged to cheat and play dirty. Sherah gave her a wink at that, going over to find herself a life vest.

Shamelessly, Genevieve grabbed a youth large size. She endured a bit of friendly ribbing over it, but she easily shot them down saying her safety in the water was worth more than her pride. Besides, the bright blue was such a fabulous color as opposed to all of their hideous yellows.

They all lined up on their paddleboards, poised to go. Rosalie stood on the dock, grinning broadly as she counted down from three.

At the sound of the whistle, Xavier immediately shoved his paddle into Collins’s vest, causing him to topple into the water. Laughing, Genevieve took off. She didn’t expect to win at all. Even fantastic at balancing on boards, she knew she didn’t have the upper body strength to paddle as fast as the others. So, instead of focusing on winning, she focused on making it impossible for everyone else to win.

She slammed into Julian’s board, sending the unsuspecting man flying. With a laugh, she took off before she could be caught, zeroing in on Arnie who looked at her in a panic as he dragged his paddle through the crystal-clear waters.

Throwing caution to the winds, Genevieve took a leap of faith, body checking the man into the water. It jostled them both, sending them flying into the ocean. Mutually assured destruction at its finest.

By the time she got back on her board, most of the others had shot ahead, seemingly all just as intent to show off and sabotage than go straight for the win. Everyone except, apparently, the only wise one among them. Sherah laughed, paddling determinedly around the buoy. Genevieve skimmed over the water, spotting Henry making a beeline over to the other woman.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she muttered to herself, changing course slightly. She pulled her paddle through the water, directly crossing Henry’s path. Just before they collided, she crouched down, managing to hang on while Henry lost his balance and plunged into the water.

Sherah flew by, almost to the finish line. The others, all managing to get around the buoy, were hot on her heels. Genevieve, knowing she wouldn’t win, leisurely paddled back laughing to herself. A little chaos never hurt.

They all paired off for the kayak race. Another kiss was promised, motivating everyone. Genevieve smiled sympathetically at Arnie who’d got stuck with her. They weren’t getting any kisses today, apparently.

“Eh, we can still give ‘em a run for their money,” Arnie said, not looking at all disappointed. “Good body check back there. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What can I say?” Genevieve asked, smirking as she got into the front of the kayak. “I’d do a lot just to take another down with me. Now, I’ve got a plan.” She held up a fisherman’s net. Arnie grinned, hopping in.

Rosalie started the countdown, and the four kayaks took off. Genevieve tossed the net as soon as Rosalie stopped counting, catching both Henry and Julian’s boat as well as flustering Xavier and Collins enough to give them a head start. By the time the four guys got rolling, the other two boats had already gotten a sizable lead.

“You play dirty,” Rosalie shouted at them from across the water. Their kayak was just barely ahead. Genevieve didn’t dare look over, knowing if she did she’d be instantly captivated by both women’s fantastic arms.

Arnie hooted and hollered, paddling hard and fast. Genevieve did her best, but eventually Xavier and Collins managed to gain some distance. When they rounded the buoy, Genevieve slapped her paddle at it where the heavy thing bounced at the other kayak, sending Xavier and Collins off course.

“We’re gonna win!” Arnie screamed, grinning like a maniac. At the home stretch, Genevieve sent a wave of water splashing over both Rosalie and Sherah’s boat. Though it slowed everyone down, it gave them the edge they needed. Arnie pumped his fist in the air, flailing wildly as he jumped into the water.

“What can I say?” Genevieve said when everyone was back on the dock, laughing and trading fist bumps and high fives. “Winning isn’t all about the muscle, ladies and gentlemen. It’s about outsmarting everyone else.” Rosalie beamed at her, bending down so Genevieve could reach. Genevieve glanced at the others almost bashfully before tilting her head up, giving Rosalie a soft kiss.

Arnie, ever the dramatist, dipped the redhead almost to the floor, kissing her like in the movies. Rosalie came up laughing, and Genevieve felt caught between awe at her beauty, and envy that she could never do that.

“Let’s say we grab lunch, then we try out those jet skis,” Rosalie said, trying to get her blush under control.

Jet skis were awesome. This wasn’t something that required muscle. Just a bit of daring. The course, clearly marked by bright orange buoys in equal increments, went around the entire island. Which, admittedly wasn’t terribly large, but still sizable. Two laps, whoever won got a surprise. They went farther out than they’d been all day, and the waves were higher here. Genevieve loved it.

They were warned not to get too close to each other for safety reasons, and not to be idiots. Looking around, Genevieve knew someone wasn’t going to listen. It might even be her. Though she prided herself on not ever being as reckless as men, she knew she liked to win, and didn’t have an ounce of fear about water, or going way too fast.

Flexing her fingers, she grinned, and together everyone took off. It became clear early on who could handle waves and who couldn’t. Collins and Arnie fell back, going at a more steady pace, while Sherah did the sensible thing and leisurely went at her own safe and sensible speed. Genevieve revved her engine, skimming across the water. She laughed as she hit the waves, sending her and her jet ski flying through the air. Each time she hit the water again, she made sure to stand to keep herself from jostling. She didn’t try to sabotage anyone this time. Not when their safety hung in the balance.

Unable to keep up with her speed, Xavier and Julian fell out of her sight. Henry and Rosalie stayed as they nudged the speedometer over fifty miles an hour. When they hit fifty-five Henry stayed while she and Rosalie raced across the aquamarine waters. They couldn’t speak to each other because of the noise, but they both kept glancing at the other, wondering who would break first.

The game of chicken continued for an entire lap. The island was big enough that they weren’t going to lap anyone just yet. As they went up to sixty miles an hour, both women started getting a little uneasy.

This wasn’t Genevieve’s first rodeo. When she’d been just fifteen, she and her brother went out on the water, and had races more reckless than this. She’d gone this fast before, though sixteen years was a long time to forget how terrifying and exhilarating it was.

Finally, Rosalie shook her head, giving in. She let up on the accelerator, dropping down to forty. And with the competition less breakneck, Genevieve gave in too. She made sure to stay ahead, but didn’t put herself in any more danger than she’d been in before.

She won the race, and half an hour later, the stragglers pulled into the dock looking windblown and more than a little sunburned. Both Genevieve and Sherah just darkened, while Rosalie stayed white as ever, having slathered on layers and layers of SPF a billion throughout the day.

She gave roses to both Arnie and Sherah. Genevieve tried not to look too hurt by the slight rejection, but Rosalie caught her eye anyway.

“The only reason I didn’t give you one,” she said when they were out of earshot from the others – though not from the camera. “Was because we behaved recklessly and way too much like idiotic teenaged boys. And I’m not condoning that behavior on TV. But, uh, it was kind of hot. Seeing you zip around like that.” Genevieve scoffed, nudging Rosalie with her elbow. But she rode that high all the way back to the mansion.

Genevieve liked all the guys who were left, and she’d gotten to know them all so well. So, it was sad to see Mason go home. Genevieve hugged him tightly, wishing him well. He took it in stride, bowing graciously as he left the mansion for the last time.

They recuperated a day before Rosalie went off with Owen to go rock climbing. And Genevieve couldn’t say she wasn’t disappointed to miss that. Climbing things just seemed like a damn good time. But, when the next day, seven of them went off to New York City to “audition” for a Broadway musical, she got over it real quick. Owen and Julian, though not on the group date, went with them too so they could all stay the night in the Big Apple.

“Holy shit, I fucking love the city,” Genevieve said, staring starry eyed up at the marquis. “And you can’t even begin to fathom how much I adore the Broadway. I mean, _Chicago_ , a show with fantastic female characters, flawed and weird and badass and _alto_!”

The others all chuckled at her enthusiasm. Usually, Genevieve stayed pretty dry and sarcastic, but her excitement was contagious. Even for those who had never seen a show in their lives.

“Everyone gets to prepare a song and make up a simple little act,” Rosalie said. “Whoever does the best, while they can’t actually join the show sadly, gets to sing a little duet with me of your choosing. I know my Broadway songs pretty well, so I’m prepared for anything. C’mon boys and girls, gimme a showstopper.”

Genevieve met with one of the cast members who was to help her with her preparation. Everyone got one. Her name was Valerie, and she played Velma Kelly. The brown-hair pixiesque cut worked well for her indeed.

“So, what are you thinking?” Valerie asked, grinning at her. “And can I just say, it’s so fantastic that you’re competing on The Bachelorette. About damn time. Now what can you sing?”

“Thank you, it’s been actually pretty awesome and mostly drama free.” Genevieve smiled, leafing through a binder of songs. “So, shockingly enough I’m an alto. I know, most people are surprised because I’m tiny, but my voice just doesn’t do high. And, while I adore _All that Jazz_ as much as anyone, I’m looking for something more stunning. A song likely to make Rosalie speechless. I’m kind of actually really smitten.” She blushed slightly, scanning the list.

“Alright, then don’t do any of that love song ballad. Do something heart wrenching, or weird, or totally different. Ooh, what about _Rose’s Turn_. Yeah, it’s a standard, but if done right it’s something you need to basically tear your soul apart to sing. And you can do it.” Valerie grinned, folding her arms over her chest as she imagined it. “Or maybe something from _Cabaret_. Eh, your choice.”

Genevieve loved that song, but could she actually do it justice? Could she live up to some of the greatest Broadway divas of all time? Ethel Merman, Bernadette Peters, _Patti LuPone_? In front of everyone? Without fucking up? Well there was only one way to find out. She nodded. And together, she and Valerie started practicing. And boy did it help that she already knew the song by heart. She and Valerie hungrily watched several videos of past performances by the best to see what worked and didn’t.

The time came. Genevieve pulled her hair back into a braided bun to the right of her head, applied her lipstick, and breathed. She was last to go, leaving her to watch her competition.

Xavier went first. He knew he wasn’t a strong singer at all, so he opted for a more comedic song, and had them all in stitches with his rendition of _Turn It Off_ from _The Book of Mormon_. He beamed brightly in his costume, taking a dramatic bow.

Henry was actually a pretty good singer. Not amazing, but decent. He went for a more classical approach, singing _Some Enchanted Evening_ from the beloved _South Pacific_. There wasn’t much in terms of acting, certainly not like Xavier’s manic performance, but he was still very good.

Then, dressed to the nines, Daria slid onto the stage, blowing everyone away with her song from _The Color Purple_. And _Push Da Button_ was supposed to be all kinds of raunchy and sexy, but Daria gave it a new meaning, shimmying and shaking as she gave it her all. They all hooted and hollered as she took her bows.

“Now I _need_ to see Daria as Shug Avery,” Genevieve said to Sherah who just gaped at Daria’s retreating form. Genevieve smirked at her until Sherah slapped at her arm, blushing.

The bisexual Collins gave it his all with a tearful performance of _I Am Who I Am_ from _La Cage aux Folles._ Genevieve had to take several breaths to keep from crying and getting her eyes red and nose runny before her song.

Sherah stepped up, taking a steadying breath. The first note of the music rang out, and Genevieve groaned, knowing she’d probably have to try even harder not to cry as _Me and the Sky_ from _Come From Away_ washed over her. She could just feel the joy and pride as Sherah sang about being the first female American captain in history. And the ending, god the ending. Daria, who’d already gone, was staring up at Sherah in awe, a tear escaping down her cheek. Genevieve gave her a small hand squeeze.

Unfortunately, Genevieve barely remembered Arnie’s take on some song from _Newsies_ as she psyched herself up for her number. Then, suddenly she was up. Her heart pounded wildly as she prayed to the goddess of Patti LuPone to give her strength.

“ _Curtain up, light the lights…play it boys!_ ” She lost herself in that song, blocking out everyone in the audience as she reached deep down to find that unhinged piece of herself. She poured everything into that performance, growling and not bothering to care about sounding pretty. This wasn’t a pretty song. This song broke your heart. And as she desperately screamed, belting out that last line, she felt amazing.

The music stopped, and for a moment complete silence hung in the room. Then, raucous applause. Feeling her strength give out, Genevieve sank to the stage, breathing heavily. She laughed, and in front of her Rosalie jumped onstage helping her stand.

“That…that was incredible,” Rosalie murmured. “I’ve got to stop underestimating you, darling.” She pressed a soft kiss to Genevieve’s cheek, presenting her with a rose, and a chance to pick a song. Genevieve tucked the rose between her breasts with a wink, but needed a moment to recuperate.

“I think you know what song we have to sing,” Genevieve said after a few minutes. Rosalie slowly smiled, grabbing a microphone.

“Maureen or Joanne?” Rosalie asked. And Genevieve was a total Joanne any day. They gave their request to the man behind the piano asking him to lower the key a little, and got into position.

“ _Every single day…_ ” Rosalie sang lower than the song called for. If Genevieve was an alto, Rosalie was an _alto_. And she had the growl down to an art form. Genevieve watched, dazed as Rosalie moved her hips provocatively, smirking over at her. It was only through sheer familiarity with the song and reflexes that she managed to come in with her part on cue.

“ _It won’t work. I look before I leap, I love margins and discipline. I make lists in my sleep, baby_.” They had fun with it, dancing and laughing, and eventually inviting the others onstage too before they ended the night with Rosalie treating them all to _Mein Herr_ a la _Cabaret_. Which left Genevieve swooning, and her panties soaked.

After dinner, she stole away to her hotel room, and immediately stripped out of her dress, ignoring the cameras they’d put in her room. Fuck, they’d already seen everything, and they had to edit out the good shit for tv. Slipping under the covers in just her lacy black underwear and bra, she let a hand wander down between her legs.

Genevieve gasped and sighed, lightly rolling her hips. She came sheepishly quickly, being so keyed up. But not a few moments into her afterglow, someone urgently knocked at her door. Groaning in irritation, she pulled on a robe before flinging it open.

Daria stood on the other side, wringing her hands and pacing.

“I think I’m in love,” she said without preamble. Genevieve blinked at her in confusion before sighing heavily and tugging her inside. Turning on the light, they sat at the foot of the bed.

“It’s Sherah isn’t it?” Genevieve said. Daria looked at her in surprise, but nodded. Yes, it was Sherah. Not Rosalie like it was supposed to be. Oh, sure. Rosalie was insanely attractive, and Daria could totally get on board with that, but she was not Sherah.

“I can’t tell her!” Daria said, looking scandalized after Genevieve suggested it. “No way, Nope. What if she’s not on the same page? She probably wants Rosalie like everyone else. But Genevieve, she’s just- wow. So pretty, and smart, and sasses me to the moon and back.” She sighed dreamily before immediately going back to freaking out.

It took over an hour for Genevieve to get her to calm down, and still Daria refused to tell Sherah about her feelings. She left Genevieve feeling drained, and exasperated. But, even through the rose ceremony where they said goodbye to Xavier and Henry, Daria remained firm.

Until the next day when Genevieve walked in on them half-naked and frantically making out. She rolled her eyes, shutting the door behind her. Neither of them even noticed. She laughed to herself, silently wishing them well. They were really cute, honestly. Even if she really didn’t need to hear how Sherah moaned Daria’s name.

That week, Sherah had a one-on-one with Rosalie. They went off to some fancy island, leaving Daria seething. But Sherah promised to break the news to Rosalie that she and Daria were involved with each other. And this was exactly the sort of drama this show lived for.

The day after they got back, Sherah and Daria packed up to leave, and it was honestly a little nauseating how cute they were.

Rosalie had given them her full blessing. She wished them all the luck in the world, and requested they stay in touch.

Genevieve hugged them both goodbye, feeling a melancholy sadness drape itself over her shoulders. She’d miss them something horrible, and made sure they promised not to be strangers.

“Good luck with Rosalie,” Daria said, kissing her cheek. “You’re going to win this, honey. She really likes you.”

“Daria’s right,” Sherah agreed, squeezing the smaller woman tightly. “We’re rooting for you, dear. You’re in the final five. It’s probably going to get ugly. Kick some ass.” Genevieve promised.

With Daria and Sherah gone, the house’s tone changed. The weeks of no television, internet, and overall stress of the show got to them all. They all still joked around, but boredom set in. The guys took to running up and down the hill, doing pushups with Genevieve on their backs. Rosalie took morning jogs around the property. And Genevieve would never admit to watching her every day.

Things got emotional. Fast. Genevieve could see Rosalie start to fray as the decision dates grew closer and closer. She kept traveling, going to each of their hometowns. Genevieve knew hers would be sorely disappointing.

“Um, I don’t really have any ties back where I grew up,” Genevieve said. “My, uh, parents are dead, and friends are far and few between. So, the producers- I mean, _I_ thought it would be better to just spend a day back in the Big Apple.”

They traipsed around the city, going to museums, seeing two shows, and finally ending the night back at Genevieve’s apartment. Sort of, the actual apartment she’d sublet, but the producers had given the couple that had moved in a tidy sum to make themselves scarce for three hours giving Genevieve enough time to cook Rosalie a nice meal. And she was no Collins, master chef, but she was good. Good enough to get a rose at the ceremony.

And then it was the final three. Her, Collins, and Arnie. They jetted off to Tahiti for two weeks. The episode comprised all the overnight dates, but in real life, Rosalie got some time to compress.

They weren’t allowed to talk to each other about Rosalie’s decisions or what they did on those overnight dates beyond the basics. Something about keeping it genuine. Genevieve had a lot of time to herself. And the camera crew that tailed her all around the resort. She mostly spent time thinking and daring to imagine the future.

She also got her hands on some paper, and started writing. Garbage mostly, but she just really needed to pick up a pen again.

Finally, the time came for her and Rosalie to have their date. The producers had it all planned out. A beautiful day at the Vaipahi Gardens, where Genevieve and Rosalie marveled at the sheer beauty of the island, feverishly learning all they could about the plants. That launched an in-depth conversation about deforestation, global warming, and subsequent consequences it would have on society and the economy. Genevieve was pretty sure most of that wasn’t going to make the final cut.

They had dinner, then the staged dinner. And then, Rosalie gave Genevieve her fantasy suite card. She accepted without hesitation.

The moment the door closed behind them, leaving both women mercifully alone for the first time in so long, they both breathed a sigh of relief.

“I don’t expect sex,” Rosalie said. “I- I like you far too much for this to just be about a night of sex. There’s a jacuzzi, wine, rose petals. We can do whatever you want. Collins and I actually just played video games all night. It was…it was fun.”

“What about you and Arnie?” Genevieve asked, trying not to sound too overly jealous or weird. But Rosalie shook her head. She hadn’t given Arnie a card. Genevieve nodded, biting at her lip.

“Let’s…let’s play it by ear. I’d be thrilled either way. It’s not off the table, but let’s just start with something else. Maybe a dip in that jacuzzi. And there’s a phone. I’d love to call Daria and Sherah and see how they’re doing.” Rosalie nodded, smiling slightly.

They called up their two friends who, after hearing where they were, quickly hung up cackling with each other. Sherah told them to make sure they were safe, and Daria ordered them to give her all the details later.

They undressed with their backs to each other, pulling on robes before they turned. Rosalie said their bathing suits were in the closet, but shyly murmured that she was okay without it. So was Genevieve.

Standing in front of each other, next to the large jacuzzi, they both hesitated. Then, being brave for once, Genevieve undid her belt, letting the robe fall to the floor. Rosalie gasped quietly, biting at her lip as she gazed longingly at the other woman. Then, she too dropped her robe, and gathered her hair up into a bun to keep it dry.

They sank into the steaming water, turning on the jets. Rosalie gasped, immediately shifting over. Her face was red, so Genevieve couldn’t tell if it was because of the heat or because the water had hit a particularly sensitive spot.

Gradually, they grew braver until Genevieve and Rosalie sat right next to each other, Genevieve resting her head on Rosalie’s shoulder. And they talked. About life, and their dreams, and goals, and future. About what was wrong with the world, and what was right. And how they’d even gotten on this mess of a show in the first place. And long after their skin pruned up, and the water turned lukewarm, Rosalie shyly asked if Genevieve wanted to.

“Take me to bed,” Genevieve whispered. Hurriedly, they dried themselves off, both casting one critical glance in the mirror before making for the bed. Genevieve supposed they missed out on the fun of slowly and lovingly undressing each other, but she hoped there would be plenty of time for that later.

Genevieve ended up on top, Rosalie lying beneath her with those long legs wrapped around her slim hips. Just for a second, they stared at each other, wondering who would make the first move. Rosalie exhaled slowly, and gently worked Genevieve’s hair tie free of her long tresses. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulder, her face, dipping to the mattress below.

Rosalie ran her fingers through the silky strands, gathering it to one side and tucking it behind Genevieve’s ear. She nodded just once, and Genevieve lowered her body to lay flush against hers. She could feel Rosalie’s racing heart, beating in time with her own.

When they kissed, slow and unhurried, Genevieve saw stars. Rosalie whimpered, moving one hand down to trail the length of Genevieve’s spine. They both shuddered, breaking apart for air.

Rosalie shifted, sitting up slightly as her hair tie dug into her scalp. She yanked it out, taking a few strands with it, but couldn’t bring herself to care.

“We can stop anytime you like,” Genevieve said, pressing a soft kiss to Rosalie’s lips before moving to the pale flesh of her neck. She started gently, sucking at Rosalie’s pulse point first. She felt Rosalie moan, throwing her head back to give Genevieve more room.

Genevieve moved back slightly, just taking Rosalie in. God, she was beautiful like this. Her hair, her lovely red curls, lay splayed across the pillow. She wondered how Rosalie would look, dozing in the early morning as a beam of sunlight shone across the pillow, illuminating her red hair like soft flames.

Rosalie whimpered, easing Genevieve out of her little fantasy. Smiling softly, she placed an almost chaste kiss to her temple, before moving down to Rosalie’s breasts. She looked just like Genevieve would have imagined had she allowed herself to do so. Small and soft breasts, rounded with pretty pink nipples that stood erect. Gooseflesh popped up over her skin even in the warmth of the room.

“Please,” Rosalie breathed. “Genevieve, please. I need- I need you to touch me.” She keened, pushing her chest out. Genevieve chuckled, tracing a finger over her collarbone.

“I am, darling,” she answered. Rosalie groaned in frustration, shaking her head frantically.

“No, no, you know what I mean,” Rosalie said, hating the slight whine in her voice. “I need your mouth. Your fingers. Please, I need you to _touch_ me!” Genevieve nodded, and Rosalie sighed in relief. The smaller woman pressed a kiss to each pale breast, before flicking her tongue across a hardened nipple causing Rosalie to gasp, jerking upwards.

One hand came up to Genevieve’s head, pressing her down insistently but not forcefully. More than happy to oblige, she parted her lips, sucking on Rosalie’s nipple, relishing in the soft mewls and whimpers falling from Rosalie’s mouth.

“Yes,” she hissed. “God. Genevieve, yes.” Genevieve made sure not to lose herself in pleasure, focusing in on Rosalie’s reactions. She kept in tune, testing and experimenting. Rosalie loved soft sucking, tongue flicks even more. Teasing nips made her thrash needily, muttering praises breathlessly.

Genevieve glanced up, Rosalie’s expression sending bolts of arousal straight to her core. Suddenly though, she stopped, a laugh bubbling up in her throat. Rosalie flushed hotly, sitting up.

“What?” She asked, looking mortified. “What is it? What did I do?” Genevieve shook her head, pointing over at the nightstand where a little bowl of dental dams sat. Immediately, the tension drained from Rosalie’s shoulders and she laughed too.

“We’re all safe anyway so.” Genevieve shrugged, pushing Rosalie back down with a grin. “I think you’ll find I’m very good with my tongue.” Rosalie scoffed, but the way her chest heaved and her face flushed took the bite out of it.

“Prove it…please.” She wasn’t begging just yet, but she’d get there soon. Genevieve knew it. Almost shyly, Rosalie spread her legs, her left dangling off the bed. Genevieve grabbed one of the many pillows, and nudged her hips up, shoving the pillow under her. She just stared, drinking in the sight of Rosalie open and waiting. Desperate for her. The redhead whined, rolling her hips.

“Impatient, are we?” Genevieve murmured, brushing her fingertips against Rosalie’s thighs, feeling her shudder in response.

“Please, Genevieve,” Rosalie whispered, reaching for her. “Please. I need- I mean, I haven’t- not since the show started. Please.” Genevieve groaned.

“That’s kind of hot,” she said, licking her lips. “Well, I won’t keep you in suspense any longer, darling.” Rosalie sighed, hooking a leg over Genevieve’s slender shoulder and pulling her down.

Rosalie hadn’t been kidding when she said she needed relief. She was wound up like a clock, and every little touch made her breath hitch and body tremble. Genevieve probed two fingers near her soaked vagina, glancing up questioningly. Rosalie frantically nodded, bucking slightly. She moaned, deep and drawn out, as Genevieve slipped inside, picking up much needed speed as she curled and twisted just so.

Because she’d promised, her tongue stayed around Rosalie’s engorged clitoris. Long and slow laps with the flat of her tongue made Rosalie whine. Precise circles with the tip made her gasp. Little fluttering had her writhing, begging for more.

“Genevieve!” She cried out, gripping the sheets and pillows tightly. “Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck, oh fuck! Ahhhh!” She came, clenching around Genevieve’s fingers. Genevieve gently worked her through her orgasm, her tongue slowly swirling around her clit until at last Rosalie nudged her away, desperately inhaling to catch her breath.

“God, you are beautiful,” Genevieve breathed. Rosalie giggled, lying limp on the bed. She sighed in satisfaction, pulling Genevieve up to her. The smaller woman hesitated before kissing her. Not all women were so keen to taste themselves. But Rosalie didn’t mind at all, licking at Genevieve’s lips eagerly.

Rosalie snaked a hand down between their bodies, running her fingers over Genevieve’s mound through her wiry pubic hair. Genevieve sighed, adjusting her knees to better support herself, and nuzzled her head into the crook of Rosalie’s neck.

“Please,” she breathed, working her hips. Rosalie wrapped her other arm over Genevieve’s back, tracing nonsensical patterns over her spine.

Genevieve was tight. Not from lack of arousal by any means. It was just that she was a tiny woman, and had a rather shallow vagina. She didn’t usually go for penetration when pleasuring herself, but she didn’t immediately stop Rosalie.

Seeming to sense her unease, Rosalie slowly eased a single digit into Genevieve’s soaked pussy. She only managed to get about two knuckles deep before she couldn’t go any more. The redhead waited a moment for Genevieve to adjust to the new girth, then slowly began pumping in and out.

“Is this okay?” Rosalie asked, feeling Genevieve tense up.

“Um, maybe just keep your finger inside but don’t move it,” Genevieve suggested, lifting her head. “Sorry, I’m just not really used to penetration at all. But um, please. Please touch my clit. Okay, that’s good. Like that, yes!”

Genevieve squirmed, feeling herself grow closer and closer to her peak. She didn’t moan or cry out. Didn’t make much noise at all as Rosalie rubbed fast and hard circles over her clit. She groaned, feeling herself grow closer and closer.

“Rosalie,” she moaned softly, her body shuddering as she came. Rosalie’s finger inside of her didn’t enhance her orgasm, but it didn’t lessen it either, and she actually kind of liked having something to clench down on.

She sagged heavily on the other woman, before finally rolling onto her side. She felt Rosalie’s finger slip out of her, and winced.

“I’m sorry,” Rosalie murmured, licking her finger clean. “I didn’t mean cause you discomfort.” Genevieve waved that away, stretching out her muscles. She groaned softly, yawning.

“God, this is embarrassing,” she said, smiling over at Rosalie. “I promise I’ve usually got amazing stamina, but this show had wiped me the fuck out. I’ll need a moment. Then I want to make you scream my name.” Rosalie smiled teasingly, caressing her breasts.

“You sit back,” Rosalie said. “I want to show you my tongue talents.” Genevieve grinned, obediently relaxing and spreading her legs. Rosalie lowered hear head, pulling Genevieve’s hips up to her.

Genevieve’s breath hitched at the first lick over her vulva. She quietly let out soft and fast gasps, shuddering. Always, though it took her longer to get off, Genevieve found oral sex more pleasurable. There was something about having another woman’s tongue worshiping her pussy that she found arousing at anything.

“Ooh,” Genevieve sighed. “Rosalie…I- I’m close. I-” She exhaled heavily, coming undone under Rosalie’s skillful tongue. “God, that’s amazing.” Rosalie grinned up at her from between her legs.

“Talk with me,” Rosalie murmured, lying down next to the still-panting woman. “I want to know…I don’t know. I want to know everything I can.” She dragged the soft sheets over Genevieve’s shoulders, pulling her close.

They talked long into the night. The sun came up and neither woman even noticed, too wrapped up in childhood anecdotes, embarrassing college stories, and their deepest insecurities.

“I was right,” Genevieve said, her voice laden with exhaustion and just a bit of adoration. “You look beautiful in the morning with the sun in your hair.”

Rosalie flushed, smiling. She really did look stunning.

“There’s a rose on the table over there. It’s yours,” Rosalie said, reluctantly pushing herself up. Exhausted, she began pulling on her clothes, tossing Genevieve’s over to her.

“It’s over next week,” Genevieve said, pulling her hair back. Rosalie just nodded, pressing a kiss to Genevieve’s lips.

Three days later, three days of none of the remaining three contestants revealing anything about what happened on their dates, they returned back to the mansion. Arnie went home, and Collins took Genevieve aside.

“Look, I know she’s gonna choose you,” he said. Genevieve rolled her eyes, scoffing quietly. She refused to allow herself to hope. “I just wanted to say congratulations. No hard feelings, and I’m happy for you.”

“I’m not counting my chickens,” Genevieve said. But tomorrow, Rosalie would make her decision. And god, god she could not wait.

The final date, a question-and-answer game show type thing, barely registered in anyone’s mind. They knew exactly who Rosalie was going to choose, and the producers were trying to cut together footage to make it less obvious to raise suspense.

They stood, in their network provided clothes, and waited for Rosalie to step forward. She sighed heavily, reaching up to run her hand through her hair. At the last second, she stopped, remembering her carefully styled hairdo.

“Okay.” Genevieve heard her mutter to herself. “Okay. I can do this. Oh, my god. I’m on a fucking reality tv show. Okay, let’s go.”

Both Genevieve and Collins stood up straight. He looked sharp in his pressed suit, and she beautiful in her ao dai. They put her on a raised platform, and she didn’t protest.

“I came here not expecting much,” Rosalie said, standing tall and proud. “And I couldn’t have been more wrong. Collins, you are a sweet and amazing man. And Genevieve, I’ve never met anyone quite like you before. And this is such a hard decision. Not choosing between you. I’m sorry, but as much as I adore you both, my heart and mind are made up. It’s a hard decision because we’re on a TV show. And every time I send someone home, it feels strange. So, I’m going to be outside, waiting. And I love you both, just in different ways.”

They watched her walk out onto the patio. And Genevieve could see the anxiety rolling off her in waves. Collins and Genevieve looked at each other. Then, shrugging, Collins said he’d go first to get the rejection over with. He grinned at Genevieve and walked out to the Bachelorette.

Genevieve turned her head, wanting to give them some privacy. And…in spite of herself, she still felt terrified that Rosalie would accept his proposal. Collins had said he didn’t write one, knowing the outcome already, but it still made Genevieve nervous.

Unable to help herself, she glanced up to see Collins and Rosalie embrace. Her heart clenched, but nothing about the hug betrayed any romantic feelings. Collings came back out, nodding to her. He gave her a big thumbs up before heading off to the limo. His lack of anger or devastation over not getting the girl would be displeasing to the producers, but he couldn’t give a damn when those two women were so clearly in love.

“I know you prepared a proposal,” Rosalie said, turning as Genevieve anxiously walked out onto the patio. “So, I won’t steal your thunder. But I already have an answer.”

“I’m not here to propose marriage.” Genevieve heard herself say. Both she and Rosalie stared at each other in shock.  In truth, she had written something. She’d intended to kneel on the ground and beg Rosalie to accept her hand in marriage. That was what she was supposed to do.

“You- you’re not?” Rosalie said, sounding so small and unsure. “Oh…”

“I’m not proposing _marriage_ ,” Genevieve said, more strongly. She sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to her. Confused, Rosalie sat. “I was going to. The whole nine yards. But I can’t. Instead, I’d like to make another offer. I say like we’re negotiating a trade deal. God, okay. Um, I don’t have this planned, and that’s terrifying to me. Because I am like Joanne. I love discipline, and make lists in my sleep, and hate mess. But hell, I can be brave.

Rosalie. I really, really like you. I think I might even love you. But we’ve known each other for two months, and I know what they say about lesbians and U-Haul, but it’s a bit much even for me. So, I am proposing something else. A date. A real date just the two of us with no cameras, or microphones, or anything. And then, a second date. And a third. And double dates with Daria and Sherah. Two tickets to Broadway shows, and impromptu singing in our stupidly small New York City apartment when we move in together after we decide we’re right for each other.

I propose a rematch at lazer tag because I know I can win this time. And maybe one day one of us might propose for real. Or maybe not. I mean, we’re anything but traditional. I want to try for something real and beautiful. I want to go to marches holding up graphically designed signs, and I want to do it with you.

I’m sorry if you really wanted that marriage proposal, but I’m offering this. And I’m hoping you’ll accept.”

“God, you’re such a writer,” Rosalie said, wiping tears from her eyes. “All drama and suspense. Of course I accept, you idiot. God, yes. Yes!” Genevieve laughed, overjoyed, and flung herself into Rosalie’s open arms.

The ring, safe in its little ring box. Never did go on either woman’s finger. Not that one, at least. And not for several years. And when it did finally happen, Rosalie proposed, and the next day, the two women went down to the courthouse with Daria and Sherah by their sides. And they were married with a simple signature. And the ring from the show? Oh, well, they pawned that thing because really, the city was quite expensive.


End file.
